Bofur's Tale
by InfinityPossum
Summary: The story of how Bofur lost his father.


It's a common belief in our culture that there are many little moments, which pass you by and carve your character like a stone in floating water after many years. Those moments make you the person you are. In my family, however, we believe that only one sharp cut in your life is sufficient to change you forever and there's nothing you can do to stop it. Just old sayings, my mother used to say, but I know this one moment does exist. I know, because it has happened to me. I cannot forget this dreadful day, it hunts me unceasingly and I'll never be able to leave it behind or make it undone, although I wish I could. The day my father left us to fight for the honour of our people.

It's mid-spring and still quite cold in the morning. The sun hasn't risen yet, only a frail beam of mild red light between the curtains hits my nose. I'm almost four years old and I don't like waking up early. But when I'm fully awake I love playing with my toys in the little garden behind our house. But that lovely peacefulness won't last another single day.

I remember the warm sting from the falling light, I rub my nose with my hand as if I can chase the beam away. "... please understand, dear. I have to go...They need every man they can have...", I hear a low voice saying, "I've made a commitment..."

Half asleep, I don't understand the meaning of any of these words, but the voice is familiar and wakes a warm feeling inside. It belongs to my father. While my mother takes care of me and the house, he works in the mines. And I wait impatiently for him to come home every day.

Playing was always just a way to keep me busy, until I hear grass behind me being trampled by heavy, dirty boots. He wouldn't have to drop a single word, I always knew that it was him. Turning around, the excitement rises: "Daaa!", I squeak joyfully with a big smile, leaving my toys mindlessly lying in the grass. Up unto my feet I jump, only to stumble over them, in his direction.

I never fell when I was little. Yes, I did stumble a lot, got into fights with other lads, got pushed into the muddy earth and of course, hurt myself accidently, as children do. But when he was around, I never fell to the ground. Before my face would meet the green thick blades of grass, he would quickly reach out with his strong arms to grab me by the back of my clothes. "Ho! Slowly there, little fellow!", he mutters with a smile twitching on the corners of his mouth, amused by my clumsiness, as he takes me in his arms. "You finally home! I missed you, Da!", I say, digging my head between his hat and strands of his dark hair. The smile never leaves my face and I feel his warmth. "Oh my dear little Bofur, I missed you too!", he returns with a laugh, stroking my hair, kissing my forehead. There, in our little garden, we stand, surrounded by flowers and birds and greenness, in the warm sun. For infinite splits of seconds and fracture of moments, the world is perfect. And I'm as happy as a little boy thinks it is possible.

"... what about the commitment you've made here?" A shaky, muted voice approaches my ears. This one belongs to my mother. I blink once, twice, a few times more. "... what about Bofur and us two?" I wonder if I misbehaved the day before, why else would Ma speak so sadly? And then I got scared. I didn't want to know what was going on, I wanted to sleep a little longer and dream of something wonderful, so I turned away from the round window above my bed and closing my eyes, I began to slowly doze off again.

"... it'll be fine, I promise..." "...don't know what I will do if you... " "... if it's boy, name him..." I heard nothing more.

The last part of this fateful day that I can recall were heavy, slow steps on wooden ground, the door to my room was opened with grate carefulness and a weight at the edge of my bed made me slide a little into that direction. „Da?", I ask sleepily. The sun shone bright and golden, a beam lightened my father's uneasy face. He looked hopelessly sad.

"Listen to me, my sweet little son... Your father has to go away for some time..." He let his big hand, that caressed my head, fell down as I unsteadily leaned on my arms. "Mhm?" I was so sleepy. "Where are you going?" He didn't answer to that. "Your father needs to be a brave dwarf now. For all of us. Please, Bofur, be a good little boy for your mother until I come back...", his voice was thicker than usual. His eyes were somehow darker and very blunt, as if he had a big burden to carry. "I will, Da...", I nodded slowly and put my two hands in his. This is how I made promises as a boy. Important, serious promises. The kind that you truly mean.

A weak smile ran across my father's face, but he bit down on his lower lip and he gasped for air. "I.. uhm... Have something for you here..." My eyes widened. He took his brownish hat from his head and put it on mine. It was too big for me and slipped over my eyes. A little laugh escaped his mouth, along with two tears from each of his eyes. "Now please come here and give your Daddy a hug" Pulling the hat back up, I climbed into his lap and he held me very still and close to his chest. I didn't want it to end, because I felt warm and safe, but unhappy about what was going on. But before I could ask anything, he loosened his arms, stood up and turned around. "I love you, Bofur. Never forget that." This voice sounded very different. "I love you too, Da. And I wish you all the best luck in the world..." And then he left and I sat alone on my bed, with warm rays of sun and a furry hat.

My father was gone to fight in the battle of Moria from which he never returned. Only three month later my mother gave birth to my little brother Bombur and after another three month we learned that my father went missing. The last sight of him was on the battlefield, the other dwarves assumed he has fallen and his body was carried off to somewhere.

I continued playing in our garden, even years after the last news from him, because I didn't gave up on the hope that any day now, he would return to us with a smile on his face and arms wide open. Of course, he didn't came back. He stayed being missed.


End file.
